Childhood Memorial Days

I was born in Dayton, Ohio and lived there until I was 13. I remember Memorial Day weekends in Ohio.

There was usually a trip to Cincinnati to my maternal grandmother's house to take her to my grandfather's grave. She would always have a coffee can or a mason jar ready for my father and me to fill with roses from the beautiful bush on the side of her house. My mother would be mad because it was a coffee can or a mason jar and not a vase. Then off we would go to set the roses on a flat marker in the cemetery. The drive took longer than the time spent at the marker. We would place the roses into the vase provided by the marker (why was it such a big deal to mom if we took the flowers in a coffee can or jar?) and stand there a few minutes before leaving to take Grandma home. I still remember the feeling of a connection standing there even though my grandfather died when I was only 3 months old. I always thought the connection came from the clipping of the roses. There was just something about that part of the day that was special to me, but maybe the connection was from something else. Maybe the connection came because he held me when I was so little. I just don't know.

A trip to the Dayton Bandshell was very common for our family, but I remember holidays like Memorial Day and Fourth of July being special events there.

Most years there was a trip to Kentucky to the cemetery where most of my Dad's family was buried, and where my parents first born was buried. I remember those trips because my Dad hated for there to be plastic flowers on the graves, and if we got there and he found plastic flowers on any of "our" graves he would throw a fit. He would gather all the plastic flowers up and throw them over the "cliff" at the side of the cemetery. Now in my childhood mind the cliff was very high and there was a deep ravine at the bottom, but when I went back as an adult it was just a drop off, and while it was pretty steep and went to no where, it was not very deep. I remember that when Raymond and I looked down I was shocked to see grass and dirt but not a deep pile of plastic flowers.

I also remember Dad putting out a flag on Memorial Day on the front of the house.

Once we moved to Kentucky we did not go to my grandfather's grave. Grandma lived with us, but I guess the trip was too much once we moved. We did not go to my sister's grave either, even though we were only about 45 minutes away then. In fact, I don't remember much about Memorial Days in Kentucky except that since we lived on the lake we would be subject to the "Ohio Navy" crowd coming down and there being a lot of traffic.

When Raymond and I married and moved to Texas we had no family to visit, dead or alive, here. So other than talking about loved ones lost, and seeing a few memorial services, it was usually just a quiet weekend.

I remember a few years ago being sad that my boys did not have the experience of the cemetery trip to make to remember loved ones. I think you need that connection to really understand the loss and sacrifices made by others. However, we have no graves to visit. My parents' ashes are in boxes in my brother's living room (his choice). Raymond's ashes are scattered among the cedar trees in the back field. The boys have no connection to the family members buried in Kentucky and Ohio other than a bloodline. We have friends that have served in wars, some of them injured there, but they are thankfully all still alive and leading productive lives.

The boys have been to memorial services, and they have seen the ceremonies to our heroes, but I sense an indifference that I never felt. Of course, the indifference may also come from having witnessed Raymond's death and my mother's decline. They have a different understanding of dying than most people. Sudden death has not been a reality for them. Whereas by the time I was my oldest's age I had suffered through the sudden deaths of many friends, they have not had that experience in their lives. (Thank you God for having kept all their friends safe.)

So as I sit here this morning, I am reliving the clipping of the roses, and the standing at the gravesides. I am remembering those that have gone on before us, and thanking them for their sacrifices. I am also thinking of all our men and women serving our country now and praying they have a safe day and can feel the love that is being sent their way.